


Another Box To Tick

by kiyala



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Airplanes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Exes, M/M, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 09:43:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1423876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras and Grantaire are sitting beside each other on a flight to London. It's the first time they've seen each other since they broke up three months ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Box To Tick

"Fuck," a quiet, familiar voice says, drawing Enjolras' attention away from his book and up to meet Grantaire's eyes for the first time in three months. 

Grantaire is standing in the aisle of the plane, backpack slung over one shoulder, holding his boarding pass with one hand. Enjolras doesn't need to be able to read it to know what seat number he has, because apparently the universe is just cruel like that. There's a build-up of people behind Grantaire, waiting to get past and find their own seats. The old man directly behind Grantaire clears his throat pointedly and Grantaire steps into their row, dropping into the seat beside Enjolras. It's the closest they've been since they broke up, it's the first time they've even been in the same place since breaking up. Enjolras can't breathe, partly because it feels like his chest is being torn open and partly because he doesn't think he can handle breathing in the familiar scent of Grantaire's aftershave and pretend that he's not about to fall to pieces.

Grantaire puts his backpack under the seat in front of him with his tablet balanced on his lap. The other seats on the flight are quickly filling up around them and Enjolras sighs quietly. Of course they're on a full flight. Wonderful.

"I'll ask someone to switch seats with me," Grantaire mutters. 

"Don't," Enjolras replies. "You don't have to do that. We're grown men. We can deal with this."

Grantaire sinks back into his chair and frowns at Enjolras.

"Look," Enjolras says calmly, "I have my book. You have your tablet. It's fine, we'll be fine."

Grantaire doesn't look even the least bit convinced but he shrugs and says, "Sure."

Enjolras turns his attention back to his book, leaning against the window so that he won't accidentally touch Grantaire. It's raining and miserable outside, it's incredibly uncomfortable sitting beside Grantaire, but it's just a two-hour flight to London. There is absolutely no risk of him finishing his book before the flight lands so as long as he just keeps his attention focused on the book in his hands, he's going to be absolutely fine. 

By the time the doors and shut and the plane is being taxied to the runway, Grantaire is reading what appears to be a graphic novel on his tablet. Enjolras glances away, going back to his book and half-listening to the pilot's announcement as he tells them about the projected flight time. He mentions that the weather might make for a rougher flight than normal, because of the storm clouds. He tells them to expect some turbulence on the flight which then leads into the safety demonstration that Enjolras has gone through more times than he cares to count. He goes back to his book, letting himself become absolutely absorbed by it. He vaguely registers the plane picking up speed and leaving the ground. He looks out of the window and finds that the sky is even darker than it was before. He can feel Grantaire's gaze on him but he doesn't meet it, holding his book up to his face. 

It's a fantasy novel that Combeferre loaned to him for the trip and it has interesting characters and a well-developed political system and Enjolras finds it easy to become engrossed in the fictional world, eager to learn more with every page. He can almost entirely ignore the fact that Grantaire is sitting beside him.

Which is, of course, when they hit a patch of turbulence. The plane shakes suddenly, startling Enjolras right out of his book. Grantaire jerks beside him, which is when Enjolras realises that in his shock, he'd unthinkingly reached for Grantaire's hand. He jerks his hand with a muttered apology, tightening his grip on his book and trying to ignore the way he can still feel the warmth of Grantaire's hand burning against his skin. He tries to find his place in the book again but he can't when the plane is still shaking slightly. He takes a deep breath to calm himself down.

Feeling Grantaire's gaze on him before is nothing compared to how it feels now, almost as if it's a solid weight. Enjolras reads the same line seven times as he waits for the turbulence to stop. He sighs quietly with relief and continues reading, studiously ignoring Grantaire. It's difficult now and he finds himself trying to think of the last time he'd touched Grantaire's hand. It would have been more than three months ago, probably closer to four. It's incredibly tempting to reach out and take Grantaire's hand again, to memorise the way it feels against his own once again, but it's too late for that now. 

They've been flying for nearly an hour when they hit the second patch of turbulence. Enjolras puts his book down in his lap this time, his shoulders going tense. Beside him, Grantaire clears his throat quietly and offers his hand.

Enjolras looks at it, then up at Grantaire's face. Grantaire is frowning slightly and meets his eyes briefly before looking away. Enjolras takes his hand before Grantaire can withdraw it. Their fingers close around each other tightly and Enjolras can't speak past the lump in his throat, can't tear his eyes away from their joined hands, and knows that Grantaire is staring too. 

When the turbulence is over, Enjolras keeps his hand where it is, until Grantaire loosens his grip. Enjolras takes a deep breath in and then out again, and pulls his hand out of Grantaire's grip. 

"I loved you, you know," he says softly, and Grantaire sucks in a sharp breath.

"Don't do this. Please."

Enjolras balls his hand into a loose fist and rests it in his lap, looking down at it. "I miss you."

"Damn it, Enjolras."

Picking up his book, Enjolras tries to go back to reading. His thoughts are completely scattered now and he can't even remember the last thing he read. He's about to start reading from the beginning of the page again when Grantaire takes a deep breath.

"I miss you too."

Enjolras turns to him immediately. "But—"

"But it doesn't solve anything, does it?" Grantaire smiles at him, looking so incredibly sad that Enjolras' heart aches. "If missing you enough could fix everything—hell, if being desperately in love with you could fix everything, we would never had any problems in the first place. That's just not enough, though, is it? We both know that."

Enjolras feels his heart breaking again. "But Grantaire—"

"I really don't want to talk about this here, okay?" Grantaire glances around and a few other passengers guiltily look away. "Not in the middle of a plane."

Enjolras nods silently, and tries to keep reading. Beside him, Grantaire picks his tablet up, unlocking it and returning to whatever he's reading. Reading seems to take ten times as long now and as much as Enjolras is still interested in the story, he can't quite bring himself to be engrossed in it the way he was before. 

Then, all hope he has of concentrating on what he's reading disappears when Grantaire tentatively reaches over, brushing the back of his index finger against Enjolras' hand. They meet each other's eyes and Enjolras finds that he cannot quite smile, but he slides his hand into Grantaire's grip again and at least that feels right. Their fingers interlace and Enjolras puts his book down, knowing that he's not going to get through any more of it now. He shuts his eyes and leans back against his chair, feeling the weight of Grantaire's fingers on his, the warmth, the roughness of his hands. They don't talk and Enjolras doesn't even know what to say, but they both sit there, holding hands for the rest of the flight, Grantaire's thumb gently stroking the back of Enjolras' hand.

This isn't the first time they've been to London and Enjolras can't stop thinking about that now. They were here for a week's holiday together, perhaps six months into their relationship and arrived in much the same fashion, sitting together on a flight, holding hands and watching each other as the plane touched down. They'd been much happier then. Their relationship had lasted another two years before falling apart. It took them months of fighting, of snapping at each other and then ignoring each other entirely, of fights that escalated from whispered disagreements to full-blown shouting, breaking things, choosing their words specifically to hurt. It was horrible, but then they'd broken up and everything has been much worse since.

In the three months since their breakup, Grantaire has done all that he can to remove himself from Enjolras' life. He doesn't attend meetings at the Musain any more, he doesn't go anywhere that he might run into Enjolras, but he still sees all of their other friends. Their apartment is bare without all of Grantaire's things lying around and Enjolras doesn't know where he lives now, doesn't even know his number and he'd thought that perhaps a clean break would be best, but if it's this difficult to deal with now, he doesn't even want to imagine how much he would be struggling if they still had to deal with seeing each other on a regular basis and trying to remain friends.

Grantaire doesn't let go of Enjolras' hand until most people have left the plane. He stands up, putting his backpack on and waiting for Enjolras before they leave. Enjolras follows him, wanting to reach out and take Grantaire's hand but knowing better. They wait together at the luggage carousel for their bags, go through immigration and customs together and Enjolras is afraid that Grantaire will just walk away without a word but he's still there, waiting for him, one hand in his pocket as he holds onto the handle of his suitcase.

"Can we talk now that we're off the plane?" Enjolras asks.

Grantaire nods. "We probably should. Why don't we check into our hotels and then we can meet somewhere?"

Which is how they find out that they're staying at the exact same hotel. 

"Courfeyrac," Grantaire growls, shaking his head. "I knew I shouldn't have trusted the fact that he wanted to help with my bookings, what the hell was I thinking?"

"He booked mine as well," Enjolras says quietly. "He planned this. The plane, everything."

"I'm going to have words with him when I get home," Grantaire declares, and he looks like he's about to walk away.

"Wait," Enjolras says quickly. "Grantaire, listen. If Courfeyrac has taken to being sneaky about this… well, he's not exactly the kind of person who would start scheming as his first resort. You know what that means."

"This is bothering him," Grantaire replies, waving a hand between the two of them. "It's probably bothering the entire group if Courfeyrac's taken to meddling."

"We really should talk," Enjolras says softly. "And considering that we're going in the same direction, perhaps we could share a taxi."

They check in separately, putting their bags down and relocating to a small café down the street from their hotel. They take one of the tables outside under the awning, feeling awkward all over again because Grantaire had ordered both of their coffees out of habit. Enjolras rests his foot against Grantaire's under the table, waiting for him to speak.

"Do you know the last time we went out for coffee together?" Grantaire asks, his gaze fixed on his hands, resting on the table. 

"…I don't remember."

"Me neither, but I'm pretty sure it hasn't happened in the last year and a half." Grantaire looks up at him now. "I don't think, after that first year of being together, we actually went out on a date. We moved in together, barely saw each other during the week because our work schedules are so different, and pretended like that was enough."

"Grantaire…"

"But it wasn't, it never was." Grantaire rubs a hand over his face with an unhappy laugh. "You know, Enjolras, when we first started dating and you warned me that your first priority was fighting for your cause and making a change in the world, I was okay with that. I thought it would be fine, because I would be your second priority after that. Not… not just falling further down your list of priorities until I barely counted at all. I thought I would be okay with being just another box for you to tick off on your list, but it turns out I can't do that. You'd miss something important to me because you'd be busy preparing for a rally and I would think okay, that's fine, you'll just show up next time. But then you'd be late to a gallery opening because you stayed late at the job you didn't even like, or you'd cancel plans with me because you promised you'd help your coworkers with something and I could just feel myself slipping and slipping, until I didn't matter at all. So I'd do things to _make_ myself matter. Things that would piss you off, and well, that backfired."

Enjolras feels the guilt lance through him as he thinks of all the times he'd thought of going home, only to put it off at the prospect of having to deal with Grantaire passed out in the middle of their lounge room surrounded by bottles again, all the times he'd cancelled plans to go out with Grantaire because he knew that they would only end up arguing loudly and publicly. It had never even occurred to him to question _why_ Grantaire was doing it. 

"I'm a terrible person," Enjolras says quietly, covering his face with a hand. "Grantaire, the things I've done to you…"

"I know I'm not the easiest person to deal with," Grantaire tells him. "I know I should have actually talked to you about what was happening instead of just taking it all out on you by being passive aggressive and I'm pretty sure I knew that then, too. I was just… angry, Enjolras. So angry with you, and I didn't love you any less despite all of it and that just made me feel like an idiot."

"No, _I'm_ the idiot." Enjolras reaches across the table, brushing his fingers against Grantaire's. "I'm the absolute idiot who didn't even realise the damage he was doing. I never even stopped to think about what I was doing to you, Grantaire, I didn't appreciate you half as much as I do now that you're gone and I know that makes the worst kind of person in the world. I know that I don't even deserve the chance to make up for what I did, but if you would allow it, Grantaire, I love you, I truly do, and I'll never let you doubt that again."

Grantaire gets to his feet and Enjolras tenses, still not entirely sure that he won't just leave. But then he leans across the table and kisses Enjolras hard. 

"I love you. And that's not enough to fix anything but you actually _want_ to change things now, and I can believe in that."

Enjolras smiles into their kiss and they slowly pull apart as Grantaire sits down again, but each for each other's hands immediately.

"So why are you in London anyway?" Grantaire asks, sipping at his coffee.

"I have a meeting I need to attend on Monday morning. I thought I would take the rest of the week off as a break from… everything."

Grantaire snorts quietly. "Joly, Bossuet and Bahorel gave me the ticket to get here and Courfeyrac booked my hotel for me, saying that I could do with a week away. I'm punching them all in the face when I get home."

"Or thanking them," Enjolras says, stroking along the length of Grantaire's index finger.

"Yeah," Grantaire says softer. "Or thanking them. I guess that means we're both here with very little to do for the better part of a week. Together."

"Together," Enjolras echoes with a smile. "Is there anywhere you want to go?"

"Actually, I was kind of wondering if the hotel would be okay with rebooking us into a bigger room together," Grantaire replies. "If you want."

Enjolras squeezes Grantaire's hand tightly. "Of course."

"I just want to lie in bed with you," Grantaire tells him. "Breathe you in, because my bed smells wrong ever since I moved out. I want to feel you in my arms, feel the weight of your head on my shoulder. It's the little things, Enjolras. The little things I miss the most."

"I know," Enjolras nods. "Your bed head, the smell of coffee when you make it first thing in the morning, the way you'd touch me and sometimes leave fingerprints behind in paint."

With a look of utter adoration, Grantaire brings their joined hands to his mouth and kisses them. "Let's make this work."

"Yes," Enjolras agrees with a fond smile. "I think it's about time that we did."


End file.
